History
by RedHawkeRevolver
Summary: Varania has something Hawke would like to give to Fenris.


History

"If it were left to me, I would have you begging for oblivion before I was through with you"

It was a calm and deliberate statement. And Hawke meant every word of it. It took some doing to arrange this little scenario, and by the Maker, she was going to get what she wanted. The red haired elf sat across from her, an old table between them. Varania looked much the same as when they last met, with much the same look of fear on her face. But this time, it wasn't Fenris she was afraid of. It was Hawke.

Hawke knew it was the right thing to do at the time, convincing Fenris to let his sister go. Hawke did not want him to carry the burden of killing his sister along with so many other burdens, most of which he still had yet to share with her let alone come to terms with. Hawke also knew it was the right thing to do to tip off the Templars to an apostate elf attempting to leave the city. Her payment for this information was twofold. She was to be allowed some _time alone_, with Varania. And the elf was not to be killed or made tranquil unless, or until, Hawke gave the word. Hawke had done more than enough for the order these past years to be granted these simple requests. She had killed more blood mages than all the Templars in the city combined. They owed her this and they had delivered.

"If I feel you are even entertaining a thought of escape, if I see so much as a glimmer of defiance, if I hear even a bare whisper of a spell, I will end you right here in this cell and I will enjoy it. And, Maker help me, the moment I think you might pose any threat whatsoever to your brother, I promise to make you regret every second of your scheming existence before I turn you over to those Templars outside and allow them to make you tranquil. Now, nod your head to show me you understand."

Varania, eyes wide, slowly nodded and wisely remained silent.

"I love your brother more than the very air that I breathe." Hawke felt a renewed purpose upon saying those words. "And there is something you have that he wants, and I intend for him to have it. Hawke motioned to the notebook, ink and quill sitting on the table in front of them. "You are going to write down his entire life story."

Varania's eyes widened and she opened her mouth as if to protest, but immediately thought better of it when she saw Hawke reach for one of her daggers.

Hawke continued, "You will write down everything you know about your family, everything you know or remember about him from the day he first drew breath until the day that he lost his memories. I want every story, every event, every half remembered conversation, and every odd observation. And you will write this _objectively, _and I will read every word of it to assure myself of this. Because if, as I read, I sense any hint of the venom you spewed to him after I saved your life at the Hanged Man, I will…"

Hawke paused and raised a single dark eyebrow expectantly, wanting Varania to finish the sentence herself.

"End me…" The elf replied softly.

Satisfied, Hawke smiled and stood up. "I will return in 5 days. At that time, I hope you will have this gift ready for me to bring back to my beloved, if not, well, you know…" And she turned away, opened the door to the cell and walked past two flanking Templars. She did not see Varania immediately pick up the quill and begin writing.

Five days later, Hawke walked into the estate they now shared together and found Fenris in the library reading an old tomb on the Orlesian occupation of Ferelden. She held in her hands a notebook, filled from margin to margin and cover to cover. He looked up at her and gave her a subtle smile and she couldn't help but grin widely back at him.

"You're not going to try to read me another painfully long and boring history book again, are you?", she teased.

He ignored that question and instead offered a question his own. "Where have you been all afternoon? It is nearly dark. Had I known this errand of yours would take so long, I would have accompanied you." He was using a soft but scolding tone. _So protective_, she thought. He closed the book he had been reading and set it upon the small table next to him. She walked over to his chair and set the notebook upon his lap just as he reached up and slid his hand behind her neck to draw her down into a kiss. She happily sighed into him, yielding to his touch as always. When he finished satisfying his need to taste her, he pulled away, one hand still tangled in her hair and the other picking up the notebook.

"What is this?" he asked, sounding amused that he had successfully distracted her from her original task.

She exhaled at the loss of the kiss, and pulled away to stand in front of the fire. Impetuous as always, she had not really thought through how she was going to admit to him what she had arranged without his knowledge. There existed every possibility that he would be _very_ angry with her. As she turned that unpleasant idea around in her head, she thought that perhaps the reconciliation following the anger would at least be worth it, so she decided to dive right in.

"First you're going to be angry with me…" she replied, and she noted the all too familiar look of disapproval in his eyes as he waited to hear what nonsensical foolishness she had been plotting. "…and then you're going to remember that you love me and that I would do anything to make you happy." She was now wearing a very incriminating smile, which was, unfortunately, all too familiar to _him_.

"Hawke…" he said accusingly, as he rose from his chair, notebook in hand and approached her.

She held up her hands in surrender. Best be out with it.

"Your sister never left Kirkwall." She started and she could see his jaw clench at the mention of so fresh a wound, but he said nothing, waiting for her to finish. His trusting silence spoke volumes, and she relaxed a small measure. "I had the Templars apprehend her at the city gates and lock her up in the gallows. I visited her a few days ago and gave her an ultimatum. I told her to write down everything she remembered about you, your life and your family before you received your markings. I had her record your history…" her voice trailed off as she waited for his reaction.

He looked down at the notebook in his hand the same way he had looked at the first book she ever gave him years ago, like it was a foreign, dangerous thing she had presented him with.

"And she did this thing for you?" His words sounded tight in the air between them.

"Well…I didn't give her much of a choice, really…" She admitted with only a bit of guilt.

"No, I don't imagine that you did" He looked up at her. "Have you read this?"

She was unable to read his tone. Was he upset? Amused? "I…I did, I'm sorry" she stammered, suddenly unsure of herself, "only to assure she wasn't poisoning the telling…"

And then he was on her, and whatever words she had next meant to say were lost to his kiss. Deep and powerful, possessive and captivating, his kiss went on and on until she again forgot her purpose. When he pulled away from her this time, he looked calmly into her eyes.

"I would very much like for _you_ to read this history book to _me._"


End file.
